


The Thief, the Kingslayer, and the Black Boar

by zappactionsdower



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: AU, Ladyhawke AU, there is no cake there should be cake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:13:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22078273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zappactionsdower/pseuds/zappactionsdower
Summary: Ashe was not having a good day at all.It was made infinitely worse when he tried to steal from a swordsman and his pet pig.Now, he's going to have to help save the entire Kingdom.  Or at least die trying.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 37
Kudos: 70





	1. The Thief

Ashe was, all things considered, fairly good at picking out marks. When you grew up a thief, you just learned the difference between a too-empathetic old woman and the one who would likely grab him by his ear and give him, in their own words, a “sound thrashing for your wickedness.” Ashe even learned the types that would break down in maternal tears and take him in for a few nights, until the inevitable boot out the door. He knew which travelers were just drunk enough not to notice if they were bumped into, and he knew the cold eyes of a warrior that would catch him before he even approached.  
  
It was, however, painfully clear that he’d miscalculated by not noticing the sword tucked beneath the dark-haired man’s cloak.  
  
“I really don’t know what you mean, mister…?” Ashe said helplessly, or tried to. It was very difficult to breathe with the swordsman’s boot pressing firmly against his chest and his (very sharp) weapon pointed directly at Ashe’s exposed jugular. The swordsman had managed to hunt him down to an alleyway, so yelling for help was also out of the question. “Could you please not kill me?”   
  
“Give it back.” The dark-haired swordsman growled. Now that Ashe looked closely, it was obvious – the cold amber eyes, the thin long scar running down his jaw past the fur-lined collar. Definitely a wandering swordsman, or a mercenary, or perhaps even an ex-soldier. There had been a great many of each that passed through the old city and more that seemed to come every day.  
  
“Give w…” he winced as the pressure on his chest increased. “All right… just…” Ashe slid his hand into a small hidden pocket in his tunic. He withdrew a white-gold chain with a gleaming blue lion charm on the end. “This is all I took, I swear on my life.”  
  
The swordsman’s eyes narrowed. He reached down, snatching the treasure away. It was a pity too – the chain links alone would have bought him a month’s worth of meals and the charm itself enough gold to last the whole winter on a budget.   
  
The sword on his neck withdrew, and then the boot. Ashe sat up, rubbing awkwardly at his spine as he waited. Usually, he’d get a threat or two about being turned into the guards or even worse, being sent to work in the Queen’s “fields” which he was certain was a fate worse than death.   
  
Instead, the man tucked the chain back in a pocket on his tunic and stepped away.  
  
Ashe hesitated. He’d already tested his luck today. Too many times, in fact. Even the morning’s meal had been well… there were always risks in stealing stew from windowsills, but…  
  
“How did you get that anyway, if I may ask?” he hustled to his feet, running a little behind the stranger. Too close, and he’d end up with a sword through his chest. Too far, and he might lose sight of him in the crowd.  
  
“I told you. It’s mine.” The swordsman kept walking, right towards the less reputable streets that even Ashe had learned to avoid. Around them, crowds of people started to thin out as the roads become muddier and the buildings older and slimier.

“That's the image of the Blue Lions Corps, right? I remember seeing it when I was little. “ When his mother was still alive, and his family still whole. A grizzled soldier that used to come through the inn had one, and would tell fantastic tales of the king and his peerless knights. “It's... really tragic that the prince was murdered by his sworn knight, wasn't it?”

The swordsman went still and Ashe froze, waiting to bolt. The man turned his head, looking around with a scowl. “Hey. Boar. You better not have wandered off again.”

Nothing happened.

“Boar.” the man said, hand drifting to his hip. “Get out here.”

To his left, a dog-sized pig hustled out from behind a stack of crates. The thing was jet black and hairy, with two tiny tusks sticking out from its snout.

“Oh. Is that your pet?” Ashe asked as the swordsman leaned down, running his gloved fingers over the creature's twitching ears. “It's...” Big? Unusual?

The swordsman snorted “It's none of your business.” He stood up and ran a hand through his jet-black bangs, sweeping them back. “Come on. We're leaving.”

The pig followed him, its tail almost – wagging? - as the swordsman kept walking deeper into the rotten remains of the city.

“W – wait!” On impulse, Ashe began following again. The swordsman was deadly, he'd seen as much, but going this way... well, it wasn't... “You know you're heading right to where the nastiest part of this place is? There's... well, even _I_ don't go here!”

Really. This was none of his business. He had a hard enough time living as it was. _Everyone_ in Faerghus had a hard time.

Ashe followed anyway.

There were rumors about the slums of the small city. _Bad_ things happened in the slums. People disappeared, came down with mysterious illnesses, were stabbed in the back for wearing anything _too_ nice.

The swordsman didn't seem to care. It was almost eerie, just how confidently he strode through the muddied streets and how he managed to ignore the ever-worsening smell and the hungry stares of the few people that dared to show their faces in the middle of the day.

“If I may ask... why head this way?” Ashe anxiously glanced around, trying to keep track of however may people were moving behind them.

“Why are you still here?” the swordsman muttered sourly. “I told you to leave.”

“I'm a thief, not a murderer. Besides... you know there are witches rumored to be hiding here.” If Ashe's mother had taught him one thing before he died, it was to stay away from witches.

“I've heard.” The swordsman stopped at a crossroads of ruined buildings. Ahead was a wall covered in pikes and old leather helmets. To his left was a long building of crumbling stone with the remains of a sign hanging off the corner. To his right was an empty space that had become covered in ugly looking brown weeds and rotting wooden shields.

The previous barracks of the Blue Lions, judging from what little Ashe could still make out on the sign.

It was hard to believe such deterioration only took three years.

“I heard this place used to be covered in gold.” Ashe mused, stepping closer. Now, it was just a hollow shell, a spiteful sign of the rebellion that had taken the young prince's life. “And silks too.”

The swordsman snorted. “Silks don't keep out the cold.”

“You're awfully grumpy, aren't you?” Ashe ran his fingers over the rotting entrance to the barracks. Worn, rotting, but....

He caught movement in the corner of his eye.

The swordsman cursed. His hand flew to his sword as he glowered at the shadows. Behind him, the pig skittered into the overgrown weeds.

Ashe stepped back too, suddenly aware that they weren't alone.

Seemingly, out of nowhere, a group of men in black rags coalesced around them. They each carried a curved dagger. The tallest one smiled, revealing yellowed teeth.

“Hello there Kingslayer.” Yellow-teeth drifted closer, “I thought you'd show up if I waited long enough.”

 _Kingslayer_? Ashe nearly choked.

“So you tried to lay a trap for me?” The swordsman's - _Kingslayer's –_ hand twitched against his weapon. “Quaint.”

The man chuckled. Ashe yelped as one of the hooded figures came behind him, and for the second time that day a sharp weapon was pointed at his throat.

The swordsman's scowl became more pronounced.

“You may have royal blood on your hands, but do you really want to spill a kid's?” He smirked, circling the swordsman like a hungry mongrel. “Although I should thank you. Queen Cornelia is a lot more to my liking than that brat.”

The swordsman glanced up at the afternoon sky, then towards Ashe. He exhaled, drifting his attention back to the field. “.I surrender. If you let him go.”

“Or I could kill him and keep you anyway.” The point of the dagger pressed unpleasantly into Ashe's neck.

“I'm worth more alive and unharmed.” The swordsman's lips turned upwards in a grim, promising smile. “I _will_ take some of you down with me.”

Yellow-teeth clicked his tongue. He turned his head back and gave a tiny nod, and Ashe was released.

Ashe didn't waste any time in running as far away as possible.


	2. The Pig

Today was definitely _not_ his day. In fact, perhaps the only good part of it was that the sun would be setting soon, and it would be blissfully over with.

The Kingslayer was supposed to be a beast. A vicious, cold-hearted killer with hellflame eyes and wild night hair a terrible temperament.

Well... the swordsman had indeed been grumpy. But it was like one of the merchant cats, not like a demonic murderer that you'd expect could behead a young prince.

It was for the best, really. To forget the whole thing ever happened He could go to his small spot beneath one of the inns, maybe steal a roll or two when no one was looking for dinner...

There was a very distinct _clickclickclick_ of cobblestones behind him.

“You may as well not follow me,” Ashe said, not daring to look back. “I don't need any more trouble today, thank you.”

The noise continued.

“Sorry. This isn't anything I should be involved in. You should... go to wherever pigs go. I am certain there's a nice farm _somewhere._ ” Maybe. Probably. The weather had decidedly taken a turn for the worse these last few years.

There was a low, displeased grunt

“Really...” Ashe turned, more than a little perturbed. “You...”

The pig's ears twitched. Its eyes were focused right on Ashe. As if it understood him, and was disappointed.

Pigs definitely couldn't be disappointed though.

Come to think of it, had he ever _seen_ a pig with blue eyes before?

“You stay here any longer, you'll get eaten.” Ashe warned. “I.. think I'd rather that not happen. You do seem like a very sweet pig.” He glanced around, aware that a few more aware people had begun to look at them.

The pig snuffed and sat down on its haunches.

“He's a _Kingslayer_. He's killed a prince, you know. So he's obviously very wicked...”

The pig rose again and came forward, gently nudging Ashe's shin with its round snout.

“I'll take you to him.” Ashe sighed. “But... that's it. All right? I have a feeling they took him to the Squalor.”

He could swear the pig nodded.

The Squalor had, in better times, been part of the governing buildings when someone bothered to govern the city and had served as a meeting place for the local regent and others. Now, it had been taken over by the worst kind of bandits and ne'er-do-wells. What was once a clean, welcoming space was black and dull-red, with sharp weapons strung along like wicked fencing.

Even looking at it from a distance was making Ashe uneasy.

He'd been there once, when he was starving and desperate, and had barely escaped with his life. But he'd gotten a feel for the layout and had been small and slender enough to slither in and out of whatever escape spaces he could.

“There used to be a prison underneath.” Ashe said offhandedly, because talking to the pig somehow seemed the right thing to do. “It's very secure and...” He paused as he saw a row of familiar-looking daggers hanging like morbid teeth near an entrance.

This was definitely the place.

When he'd first come, it was through a tunnel that led to an old, dull chambers of rusted weapons and maps. An escape route, perhaps, meant for the regent to make a quiet escape or for secret meetings. Ashe wasn't really sure.

But, as he made his way quietly closer towards the rotting fencing, he did spot a familiar round-shaped hole covered by a stony rock.

“I hope you know how dangerous this is.”

The pig twitched its ears.

“Yes, well...” Ashe sighed. “I think I can still slip through. It is getting rather dark so you should get somewhere safe.”

The pig went over, nudging at the stone. It made a beastly grunt, pushing against it with far more force than Ashe could ever expect.

“You are a strange beast...” Ashe shook his head. Really. He should walk away. Go somewhere. Perhaps even leave the city. Why should he care about a _the –_ Kingslayer?

He slid into the tunnel and prayed to the Goddess that he would live through the night.

It was wet. And unnervingly quiet. And seemed to twist and turn in some nonsensical pattern. Ashe couldn't see at all, but a good thief learned to read the very air to figure out where they were going.

And he could tell, just by the smell, that he was moving towards _something_. Cold stone and steel, and something very dangerous.

He didn't hear anything at all.

The tiny tunnel began to open up more. He could see a faint, barely-there light to his right.

There, just like before, was an old wooden hatch no bigger than one person.

He ran his hands over it and was relieved to feel the hatch give with only the barest pressure. Slowly, very slowly, he opened it.

Just like before, it opened to a small room.

Unlike before, the room was covered in black rags and old, rotting furniture. Former finery was stacked up, stripped of nothing but the wood and unusable scraps.

Ashe slithered out, carefully replacing the hatch and hiding it with a layer of black rags. He rifled through, looking for a weapon or... something.

Well. Speaking of.

He picked out a person-sized rag and wrapped it around himself, careful to cover his face entirely. It reeked, but it would work... right?

This truly was a terrible idea.

Carefully, the thief crept through the door. It was weirdly silent, but he wasn't going to complain. Perhaps all the bandits were eating dinner? Or something much worse, that he didn't wish to imagine.

There was a guard stationed at a metal door, and Ashe's heart hammered. Whoever it was had his head bowed, and was as still as stone.

Asleep? Or passed out?

Hesitantly, Ashe crept forward.

The man reeked of alcohol. Thank the Goddess.

Ashe carefully, silently, slid the ring of keys from the man's belt loop. He undid the door and cringed at the low gran as he carefully slid it open.

The prison wasn't large. In a time of peace before the death of the royal family, why did it need to be? Several torches hung lamely along the wall, casting ugly shadows against the rusted bars. Ashe's stomach churned as he saw figures slumped in the corner, and the smell and state told him that whoever the poor souls had been, they were long gone.

There was no swordsman.

Could they have put him somewhere else? The bandit leader had definitely said _alive_ , so surely...

A tiny noise caught his attention. He turned his head, startled to see a set of glowing eyes staring at him through the moving shadows of the cell closest to the wall.

“Um...” he stopped, glancing around. “Uh...”

A cat crept through the bars. It was jet black, with dark eyes and its left ear chewed off. Even with its small size, it looked imposing.

Ashe leaned down to hold his hand out. He didn't meet many cats – the market was full of them, but they all had a tendency to scatter before shopkeepers caught them messing with their food offerings. But he was fairly certain that on the whole, they weren't _dangerous_....

The cat's tail swished behind it as it sniffed at Ashe's hand. “Ah... hello.” Ashe hesitated. “Are you lost?”

The cat's ears folded back. It made a disapproving growl and Ashe barely had a chance to pull back before the beast swiped with rather impressive claws.

“Well y...” Ashe froze. Outside, there was a high-pitched scream, followed by a decidedly _loud_ thud.

He dropped down, hastily moving closer into the shadows. This was bad. This was _really bad_...

The door slammed open as the previously passed out man was tossed onto the ground with a painful crack. Ashe cringed, horrified as a hulking figure rushed in.

He was tall, and covered in black. His dusty blonde hair hung around his face like a lion's mane, and his lone eye was wild.

The stranger blinked, entering into the prison with a determined expression. “Are you here?”

The cat ran forward, as if called by its name. The man dropped down, arms out, and the feline leapt up, curling tight around the stranger's fur collar.

He reached up, rubbing the cat's shoulder. Ashe shivered, suddenly pinned down as the stranger looked directly at him.

“Are you coming as well?” He turned, walking intently away.

The man was clearly dangerous. Ashe glanced at the heap of a man on the ground, then back towards the door.

As if he had a choice.

He followed at a safe distance, his gaze darting between the man and the hallway around them. Black-robed bodies were tossed in various heaps, some of them twitching weakly. Some had arms that didn't look quite right, and he caught the glint of a dagger in others.

“Did you....” he hesitated. Perhaps it was better not to ask, until he was safely away from someone that could slam open metal doors with barely any effort. “Um. How did you even get in...?”

“The front door.”

“Oh.” Ashe shivered. “Very.. bold of you.” He didn't even seem to have a _weapon_. “Out of curiosity, did you see a black-haired swordsman anywhere?”

The man stopped, glancing at him. He tilted his head, hand again going up to steady the cat that sat so primly on his shoulder. “He... ran away?”

“You don't sound very sure.”

“Oh no. He is very safe, thanks to you. But...” The blonde turned away, glancing around. “I think there are more of them. We should hurry.”

Outside, the area was pitch black. Above them, the half-moon hung low, covered briefly in clouds.

_Half moons are trouble_. Ashe's mother had always said. _Best to be inside when it's out, or the magic might take you.  
_ Magic was an old wives' tale meant for stories, but the warning made him uneasy all the same.

The man stood there, gently petting the cat near his throat. Its tail twitched, but it seemed altogether settled otherwise.

“I seem to remember there being an exit around here.” The man moved, unafraid of all the ugly weapons and dangerous shadows around them. “It's changed, of course but...”

“Well, I suppose I should be off....” Ashe stepped back, hesitant to draw the man's attention again. He'd had enough mysterious strangers for one lifetime.

He didn't see the shadow lingering in the bushes.

He didn't hear the stranger's shouted warming.

He did feel the hard blunt end of a weapon slam into the back of his skull.


	3. The Kingslayer

When Ashe was a small thing, his mother had told him all sorts of fantastical tales. Of honorable princes fighting against vicious dragons, or a village girl that braved all sorts of dangers to take her baby brother back from the King of the Goblins. Stories that had seemed so _exciting_ , compared to the mundane life of a poor cook and her three children.

He used to dream sometimes, about his own adventure. Fighting a giant beast made of scales and stones. Rescuing a lost prince from an ice castle. Venturing into the Fae lands, and fighting his way out.

This was something new though. He was being attacked by something horrible, with ugly yellow teeth and glowing white eyes. But a prince, in blues and golds, rescued him and carried him away to somewhere safe.

It was a nice dream, overall. Better than the ones where he was at a banquet that always seemed just out of reach. And he was warm, oh so very warm, right up against his back and _real_ blankets, and the smell of freshly cooked meat...

“Get up already.”

Ashe blinked.

He was staring at a wet, black, pig snout.

Beyond that was nothing but trees,and black, craggy stones. The sun was just starting to rise, casting everything in dulled greys and pinks.

Hastily, the thief tried to sit up. His vision swam and he winced, hand going to the back of his head. Still tender, which means he'd been hit...

Oh.

Yesterday.

His mother had _definitely_ been right about that half-moon curse.

The pig sat down, and Ashe was fairly certain the creature was indeed wagging his short tail.

“I can't believe you.” someone said, and Ashe hesitantly turned his head to see the swordsman glaring downwards as he tended to a still-smoldering fire.

“I'm... sorry?” Ashe started to say.

“Don't,” The swordsman tossed him what looked to be a freshly-cooked rabbit. “I wasn't talking to you.”

Ashe's mouth watered. He clutched at the meat, wasting no time in tearing through the cooked flesh. Whatever the swordsman was on about could wait.

The silence allowed him to better survey their surroundings. Ashe had only stepped out of the boundaries of the city once before, and just far enough to remember the old roads that branched out in many different directions. Much farther to the south, there had been a long line of trees that Ashe was always curious about, but darned not venture into. Too many dangerous things lurked in forests.

“Thank you. For the meal.” he ventured, hesitant. The swordsman wasn't even looking at him, and the pig had wandered a few feet away to root through a patch of dried leaves at the base of a tree. “I'm glad you were able to slip out from that bandit nest. Although I do wonder what happened to that other man...”

The swordsman glanced back, and the frown deepened. “Did he get hurt?”

“I don't believe so? But I don't quite remember...” Ashe grimaced. “He must have brought me here. Where _is_ here?”

“South.”

“Oh.”

“You can go back, if you want Or stay here. I don't particularly care.”

“Well.. thank you. But...” Ashe rose to his feet

And immediately flopped back down as the world tilted sideways.

The swordsman barely grabbed his shoulders in time to keep him from hitting his head against the cold ground.

“I seem to be very dizzy still.” Ashe admitted, closing his eyes. “But I would rather not stay in the forest, if I have a choice. I don't want to be eaten by a bear.”

“There isn't enough of you for a bear to be interested in.” The swordsman sighed. “You can go with me to the next town.”

“I'm afraid I can't walk very well.”

“Can you ride a horse?”

The swordsman huffed very loudly at Ashe's blank expression.

“This is all your fault.” the swordsman muttered as the pig munched happily at a group of mushrooms. “Don't you dare get sick off of those.”

The pig snorted.

By 'horse,' what the swordsman meant was a mouse-grey beast with thick, furred hooves that could easily trample Ashe with a look.

“Get on.” the swordsman ordered.

“It's... rather tall, don't you think?” The horse didn't seem to care all that much about him either, judging by the way it bobbed its head and huffed. “Is it dangerous?”

“ _I_ will be.” The swordsman pointed to the saddle. “On. We're leaving.”

It took a considerable amount of effort to climb up on the beast's back. The horse didn't move, thank the Goddess, but Ashe struggled to fight the dizziness and vertigo. Finally, he flopped forward, wrapping his arms around the horse's neck. It was warm, at least, and didn't seem overly upset with his clinging for dear life.

“Tch.” The swordsman tugged it along. “Come on Boar.”

Obediently, the pig trotted to his left.

“Is that its name? Boar?” Ashe asked, trying to focus on anything besides the weird motion of the horse's steady steps. He'd always thought it would be well, _cool_ , to ride on horseback, but he was already desperately missing the ground. But it did seem easier

“It's what he is.”

“That bandit called you Kingslayer.”

“It's what I am.” There was a hint of something to his voice though. Sadness? Bitterness?

“You're so young though.” And not-demonic. Just kind of well... prickly, as far as Ashe could tell. “Why would you kill the prince?. I always thought that Prince Dimitri was just like out of a story.” At least the old knight had said so. Incredibly kind, with hair the color of the sun itself. And strong enough to punch a whole mountain... well, Ashe doubted that particular part was true.

The Kingslayer scoffed. “The prince is a foolish _pig_.”

“But you were his sworn knight! Or at least that's what I heard.” It had been repeated over and over as people fled the capital. That the prince was dead, murdered just as he was about to ascend to the throne. That he was the last of the royal line, and so there was no one but the royal adviser, Cornelia, to keep order and peace. That such a horrible act of regicide was sure to damn the kingdom for decades, if not centuries, to come. “You couldn't have done such a horrible thing.”

“Believe what you want.” The swordsman yanked the hood of his cloak up, hiding his face beneath the furred cloth.

Ashe found it strange he didn't feel terrified at all. Surely, someone that had murdered a prince wouldn't bother saving the life of a thief. There had to be more going on... right?

Well... he didn't have much choice but to trust the other. For now. It wasn't as if he could go home.

Or if he _wanted_ to go home.

“Can I at least ask your name? Your real one?”

It felt like an endless amount of time passed. “My name is Felix.”

Ashe gave the tiniest of smiles. “Ashe Ubert.”

The rest of the day passed without a great deal of talking. Not that Ashe didn't try, but Felix had decided it was far more important to focus on traversing through the thick trees in the most efficient way possible. Boar stayed close, only drifting off to sniff around for what Ashe was quickly figuring out was for small mushrooms that Felix collected.

It made sense, then. He'd heard stories, of pigs that could locate valuable treats before. It seemed a good way to make money.

Late in the afternoon, when they reached a small clearing, Felix had declared it was time to stop moving. He yanked a large rucksack off of the horse and began setting up camp, and Ashe awkwardly set on the edge of a group of stones and rubbed behind Boar's right ear. The pig seemed to like it, judging from the happy little grunts he let out. It was... almost nice, watching the sun set and the light dance through the rows and rows of trees.

All the mushrooms he'd gathered were grouped together, grilling along the edge of a tiny fire. The smell was nostalgic, and Ashe found he was indeed very hungry. The pain in his head had lessened significantly, and he could stand up with no problems whatsoever.

“Stay here. Watch the horse.” Felix nodded his head to the animal nibbling quietly on a patch of grass. It was tied to a large tree, but it didn't seem to bother it at all. “I'm going hunting.”

“Is that safe? The sun is...”

“Come along, Boar.” Obediently, the pig rose up and jogged back to Felix's side.

Ashe watched them both disappear behind a large gathering of stones.

They would be back soon, surely.

Eventually.

Ashe poked at the fire and nibbled on one of the freshly cooked mushrooms.

The moon poked out, dotting the sky with stars.

Felix still hadn't returned.


	4. The Cat

“I'm very certain he'll be back. Eventually.”

The horse snorted, its tail twitching.

“After all, he wouldn't leave _you_ somewhere dangerous. Although I am concerned about the bear situation...” The thief sighed, slumping back against the stack of blankets Felix had left. Above him, he could just barely make out the stars as the moon began to rise.

Had there always been so many of them? You couldn't see them that well inside the city.

Out of curiosity, he eyed a tree with low-hanging branches. Maybe....

It was a long climb upwards. But absolutely worth it. Above him, the stars glittered, unhindered by any light. To his right he could see, very far in the distance, a glow of what looked like an old church tucked in to a small clearing and a worn road lit with beacons leading to and from it. Beyond that, the land seemed to slope downwards into darkness.

He saw a shadow moving towards their camp.

Towards the poor, unprotected horse.

He climbed down, careful to not make any unwanted sounds.

The thief moved hastily to his feet. The horse glanced up, ears twitching.

“I'll just...” Ashe hesitated. “Maybe....”

He reached for a huge knife sticking out from Felix's pack. He would... he would be fine. He just needed to take a deep breath and...

His attacker was faster. Ashe yelped as his wrist was gripped from behind him, and then let go as he was spun around.

“Oh...” The wild-blonde man raised his hands, awkwardly. “Ah. My... apologies.”

“I thought you were a bear!” Ashe yelped. “I could have stabbed you!”

“Oh. No.” The certainty with which the stranger said it was absolutely insulting. “You're holding it the wrong way.”

Ashe sighed and slumped down, rubbing at his face.

“I did bring some rabbit, if you're interested.” The man stepped away from him and held up two dangling beasts. “Just give me some time to prepare them.”

“Oh.... thank you.” Ashe felt a momentary bout of nausea that he swallowed down. “Might I ask... did you run into someone else in this forest?”

“Not tonight at least.” He paused. “Oh... you must mean... yes. He is hunting still.”

“Oh. Do you know him?”

The man ignored him to go over to the fire. Ashe grimaced as he watched him tear into the rabbit, even as it brought back memories of his mother's cooking lessons.

“So... you know Felix?” the thief tried again as he settled down across from the man in black. “He didn't mention anyone else.”

“He is a very dear friend.” The man looked up, blinking. In the firelight, his right eye looked milky-white and scarred. “I hope he hasn't been too difficult with you?”

“Well, no. He is rather cross though, I think. Is it true? That he killed the prince?”

The man bowed his head, “It was not his doing, but he blames himself just the same.”

“Oh...” Ashe breathed. “He is cranky, don't you think?”

“A little.” The man paused, and Ashe saw a black shadow dart along the ground before settling onto his shoulder. It was the cat from before, and its eyes gleamed bright gold in the firelight. “Done now?”

The cat's tail twitched. The stranger reached up, gently moving his finger along the edges of its ear.

“You never did give me your name, did you?” He seemed kind enough, despite looking like a beast. And anyone that could sit calmly with a rather vicious-looking cat was likely fine.

“My.... name?” The man tilted his head, as though confused. “It's Sascha.”

“Pleased to meet you then, Sascha. I'm Ashe.” Ashe bowed his head. “Sorry. For nearly trying to stab you.”

“Think nothing of it.” Sascha poked at the meat cooking near the fire. “I... do apologize for dragging you along. I did not think it safe for either of us to stay in town.”

“Ah... well... it wasn't very pleasant there anyway.” Were the two of them traveling together? “Where are you going, if I may ask?”

“South.” Sascha gently tilted his head as the cat awkwardly curled up on his broad shoulder. “To find a witch.”

“I thought they only existed in fairy tales.”

Sascha looked terribly sad. “I thought they did as well.”

Ashe heard another noise.

He'd been dreaming again, although he wasn't certain for how long. The fire ad dwindled down, leaving everything in flickering shadows. Sascha was very still, the black cat curled up around his neck.

The noise grew louder. Ashe bit his lip and moved forward slowly, gently touching the blonde's knee.

The horse screeched. Ashe jumped back as the other man rose up, clutching tightly to Felix's sword.

A very large, very angry bear appeared, rising up on its hind legs.

“Stay very still.” Sascha warned, glancing at Ashe.

“Here I thought there weren't _supposed_ to be bears...” he choked out, forcing down a surge of panic. “What do we...?”

The bear lurched forward.

“Get the horse untied.” Sascha stepped forward, placing himself between the huge creature and Ashe. “They don't usually attack, but..”

The bear snarled and made to approach. Sascha took a step back, but then a black shadow whirred forward, jumping onto the beast's head.

The bear let out a huge howl of surprise and reached up, batting the cat away. It slammed into a nearby tree, and Sascha cried out from surprise and panic.

The cat wobbled back onto three feet, hissing.

The bear backed up, apparently having enough of the thing.

Ashe clutched the reins of the horse very close, despite it trying to do everything in its power to bolt.

The bear ran away. Sascha scooped the cat up, shaking as the small thing made a tiny, pitiful mewl.

“We need to move... _now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen in the grand cycle of life the universe and everything
> 
> "Cat versus X" inevitably ends with the cat winning. 
> 
> Bears? Alligators? Beagles? The cat will win.


	5. The Nun

Sascha was too quiet, too stilted. He clutched at the poor, bloodied cat, seemingly disappearing into his own head. They barely both fit on the horse as it was, and Ashe was absolutely certain he was in no state to steer.

Ashe tried to think. If there was a healer nearby, that would..

“The church! There's a church near here!” He yanked on the arm that was holding the reins and pointed in the direction he remembered. “Look for a yellow path!”

Obediently, Sascha swerved. Ashe clung for dear life, praying to the Goddess that he wouldn't get thrown off. He wasn't entirely certain the blonde would go back for him at this rate.

Just as he remembered, there were small lanterns hanging in a long line leading to a plain white chapel.

There were still flames sputtering inside.

Sascha jumped off, going right to the front door to pound thunderously loud. Ashe was slower dismounting, awkwardly trying to settle the very upset horse.

After what seemed like far too long, the door opened, revealing a woman with light brown hair and a large, knitted shawl.

“Do you... can you...” Sascha's voice cracked. “He's...”

“Oh... here. Can I see?” the woman held her hands out and Sascha allowed her to take the feline away. “Oh my.”

“Save him. Whatever.. whatever I need to do, but...”

“Let's get inside, all right?” she looked past him at Ashe. “You too.”

They followed the woman to a small room near the kitchen It had a small, plain bed and medical tools organized neatly on a tiny counter. Multi-colored jars of salves were all set along a top shelf, along with some very thick tomes.

“It didn't get cut too deeply,” she rubbed along the black feline's shoulders, then carefully touched its leg. “But I'm afraid I can't do much to fix this. His bones are too fine.”

“But he'll make it?” The way Sascha had looked, so completely _lost_...

“It's a very difficult thing, killing a cat.” She pointed to a small table. “Can you hand me a bowl of hot water from the sink and some of that fabric?”

Sascha obeyed. Ashe watched, awkwardly trying to keep himself small.

The next few minutes were very quiet, save for the tiny yowls of a very irritated feline. But when the woman was finished, the wound was clean and already starting to clot.

She carefully wrapped a blanket around the cat, who was making low, unsteady purrs. “Let's let him rest for a little bit, all right?”

“Thank you.” Ashe shook. “I'm sorry. It's... it's been a very long day.” Night?

What time _was_ it anyway?

“There are beds in the back room. Both of you should lie down.”

Sascha just slumped in the corner, murmuring something inaudible.

“Thank you. Again.” Ashe bowed and hustled away, too overwhelmed to get his thoughts in order.

Indeed, there were two small beds set against a wall. Perfectly plain, with straw or pine or something else inside the sewn fabric.

Ashe fell asleep immediately.

He awoke to a smell of bacon and herbs.

Ashe blinked fuzzily and curled up, too tired and achy to do much of anything. Judging by the shadows outside the window, the sun had been up for quite a while.

In the corner of the small bedroom he caught sight of the pig, flopped down in a corner with the only sign of movement the occasional twitch of his ears.

Ashe's stomach growled.

Slowly, skittishly, he left the room to limp to where the smell was originating.

“Oh... good afternoon.” The woman smiled warmly as she held out a plate of plain bacon and bread. “You did seem very tired so I let you sleep. There should be a jug of milk in the cold locker.”

And indeed, there was. Ashe wasted no time in feeling a cup and sitting down, devouring everything in front of him.

“My name is Mercedes, by the way. And you are?”

“Ashe. Are you...?”

“This s my little church. A lot of people get lost in the forest so it's a good place to help lost souls. You're just lucky you caught me inside.” She smiled, chuckling behind her hand as she watched Ashe dig into another meal.

Ashe took a deep breath. “How is... is the cat...?”

“The cat?” She blinked, tilting her head. “Oh. Well... our patient probably needs to eat too, come to think of it. Would you mind taking him a plate?”

“That seems an awful lot of food for such a little animal.”

Mercedes tilted her head. “I suppose he'll like some milk as well. Please make sure he's comfortable and I'll be back later this evening.”

A church might be a nice play to stay. Long term. It seemed quiet, and Mercedes seemed nice, and Ashe could probably clean or something. Hopefully there would be no more bears, or strangers, or confusing strangers...

Or taking a plate of bacon and toast to a small cat.

Ashe was absolutely certain none of his stories had involved that.

He heard a clatter behind the door and a loud curse, followed by a too-heavy thump.

“Is that...?” Hesitantly, the thief cracked the door open.

Felix glowered from a heap in the floor, still clutching to the edge of a dresser as if his life depended on it.

“I'm sorry... I was...” Ashe halted. “Did you see...”

Wait.

“Your leg.”

“It's fine.” Felix muttered sourly, clawing his way back into a half-stand. “It's...”

It was definitely _not_ fine. There was a bandage wrapped tight around it, just like...

Just like...

“You're a cat!” Ashe yelped, jumping back. The plate in his hand rattled, bits of bacon and toast scattering uselessly on the floor. “I mean you're a person now but... you... you had cat ears! And a tail!”

Felix blinked. “You remember?”

“How do you turn into a human?! Are you some sort of familiar? Or is the cat some kind of...”

“ _Please_ ,” the swordsman hissed, “Lower your voice already. I can hear you.”

“But you... wait,does that mean Sascha is...” Ashe's mind rolled. That would explain so many things, but it was impossible, surely. “He's...?”

Felix pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed. “Yes. I'm a cat. Sometimes. When the sun sets. And when the sun comes back again, _Sascha_ is a pig. We're _cursed_.”

“Oh. That's horrible.” After a moment, Ashe went over to help Felix lean against a table. He seemed entirely resistant to giving up moving, even if his right leg was completely useless. “Is that why you're on the run?”

“One reason.” Felix limped unsteadily to the door. “Where is he?”

“In the bedroom, I think. But I also think you're better off lying down. That leg doesn't look so good.”

“I'll get over it.” Felix dragged himself to the door and forced air out through his nose “I've had worse.”

Ashe was absolutely certain that he wasn't lying. Sighing, the thief helped Felix limp down through the rooms to the small bedroom he'd woken up from.

The pig – _Sascha_ \- was still there, and had merely moved close to the window. Its tail gave a weak twitch as it saw Felix.

“Boar. We need to move.” Felix ordered.

Sascha didn't stir.

“I'm _fine_. We can't stay here.”

Still no answer.

“Mitya... please...”

The pig stood up, but only to flop down again, facing away from them both.

Felix growled and sat uselessly on the nearest bed. “I hate when you're like this.”

“If I may... he was rather terrified last night. It couldn't hurt to spend a few days resting up?” In a fit of empathy, Ashe went over to gently rub at Sascha's ears. That, at least, got a snort of approval.

Come to think of it....

No way.

But well...

“If you... if you're both cursed... is this...?”

Felix muttered sourly.

“You called him Mitya.” Ashe looked at the pig a little closer “The prince never died at all, did he?”

“It's a long story.” Felix sighed, staring up at the ceiling as though finally giving in to the exhaustion. “If you tell anyone, I _will_ cut you into pieces. But...” he glanced at the pig, “Yes. That is the last true king of Faerghus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes may be a holy woman but she has no problem punching wild animals in the face should they bother helpless people in her little forest hideaway.


	6. The Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief mention of blood.

“Are you certain I look all right?” The prince fidgeted quietly with the buttons on his collar, and then the way his hair fell around his forehead. “Maybe I should brush it again.”

“You're fine.” Felix barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “What kind of king will you be if you spend all your time worrying about how you look?”

The prince sighed, puffing out a small breath of air as he composed himself. “You're right, of course. This will be over soon, I know, yet...”

Felix shook his head. Really. This was going to be the _easy_ part. A coronation, a lot of shaking hands and benedictions and a few speeches about peace and prosperity and promises that Felix always found trite. A banquet.

And after that...

After that Dimitri would be _king_.

“I'm glad it's you.” Dimitri murmured softly. “Of course Glenn is equally talented, but...”

Felix's whole body burned hot. He looked away, to the window where a few citizens were beginning to stir and the sun was beginning to rise. It was going to be a busy day indeed “Hold the compliments until I earn them.”

Dimitri smiled, as cheerful as always. Felix held his tongue.

“Still. There are many more things I'd hoped to do on my eighteenth birthday. Do you remember when we would sneak out to ride to...”

“Less talking. More moving.” Goddess. They'd be _late_.

“is there any reason you're pushing me out so early, by the way? Most of the servants aren't even up and about yet.”

“Just... come on.” He grabbed onto Dimitri's hand, tugging the blonde towards the door.

“We're not supposed to go out of the castle.” Dimitri murmured softly. “It's bad luck.” And it was true – in less than two hours he would need to meet with Gustave and the knights, and then the nobility before greeting the bishop. Sylvain and Ingrid had both seen them late the night before, not that anyone would have slept well before today.

“I don't believe in luck.” Felix chose to ignore the staff and other people that were hustling around them. Usually, Dimitri would stop and speak to cooks and servants, and get dragged aside by Gustave for a long conversation about _duties_ , and Felix would inevitably be pulled away by Ingrid, probably to scold Sylvain into submission.

They had time. A little bit, at least. Enough time to go through the gardens to the secret spot, where Felix had hidden Dimitri's present.

And take his vows. _Without_ a ton of annoying people ogling them.

“Still...” Dimitri stopped short, glancing to the left.

“What is it?” Goddess, it was like trying to herd one of the maid's cats.

“I don't remember this statue being here. In the garden, I mean...” He reached out, inspecting a hideously ugly stone grey statue of a knight wielding a lance.

Felix never kept up with the rotating landscaping. The head of the castle had a tendency to constantly bring in new and... _interesting_ artworks in an attempt to “modernize” their surroundings. Gustave usually didn't protest (much), as long as the art was well, clothed.

“Doesn't it look like Rodrigue?”

“Don't be silly. My old man doesn't _have_ a statue of himself.” Still. That did... kind of look like his father's hair. And his father's nose. And the weapon looked familiar...

He was wasting time. “Come on. Before the knights catch us.” Felix gripped Dimitri's wrist and tugged him along into the more private areas of the gardens. He had no doubt Gustave and Glenn were already on their tails, and they'd both get an earful about _responsibility_.

They moved quickly towards the old chapel, or what was left of it, where it was said Loog and Kryphon received the Goddess's blessing to win against the Empire and make their own land.

It was all so silly. Still....

“Your Highness?”

Felix's eyes narrowed.

“Oh. Cornelia. I apologize, I wasn't expecting you to be here.” Dimitri gave a formal half-bow that the woman most certainly didn't deserve. “My apologies.”

“No need.” The redhaired woman smiled at them both. “Aren't you supposed to be meeting with your knights?”

“Aren't you supposed to be greeting the nobles?” Why _was_ she here anyway? Cornelia always raised his hackles.

Then again, as Glenn apparently reminded him all the time, his hackles were _always_ up.

“I just came to request a blessing from the Goddess. Perhaps we could go in there together?” She tilted her head towards the old stone door.

“I suppose it's all right.” Dimitri glanced to Felix, who was scowling more than usual. “But Felix and I...”

“I'm sure he wouldn't mind...”

“I do mind.” Felix crossed his arms. “We don't have time for this.”

“Felix...” Dimitri sighed, awkwardly bowing his head again. “My apologies. I... believe a blessing from the Goddess is certainly warranted today. We will go in... together.” His long fingers curled gently around Felix's wrist.

Cornelia's lips twisted upwards, “Very well. Shall we go?”

The stone doors groaned open, revealing a small inner sanctuary. The sword Felix had left to present to his prince was set neatly against the wall, prepared for a ceremony and a birthday that Felix had wanted _to celebrate privately._

But stranger than that was a scarecrow, dressed in Dimitri's traveling clothes and wearing one of the royal circlets.

“Cornelia... what is that?” Dimitri breathed, vexed. Felix could feel ice forming in his veins.

“Its you, your Highness. Or... it will be very shortly.” Her hand flicked and suddenly each and every muscle of Felix's body stilled. Beside him, Dimitri choked back a gasp as his knees buckled and he fell to the floor.

“Don't worry. My little puppet is going to be a great ruler...” She drew forward, cupping Dimitri's jaw and behind her, the scarecrow _twitched_. “I just need _just_ a little blood. Well... a lot of blood.”

No.

Dimitri _wheezed_ in pain as Cornelia slid her nail along his neck, red blood leaking downwards. She brushed it all along her fingers, then drifted back to the... the thing to press the blood along its cloth brow.

Felix thrashed against whatever invisible bonds were holding him. This was... what _was_ this? But no – that thing... that _thing_ was moving again, face softening, looking like... like...

That...

_That_...

The thing stood up, moving in unsteady jerks. A pale imitation of _his_ friend, with empty blue eyes and a vacant smile.

“Goodbye, your Highness. I can assure you, your coronation will be quite lovely.” Cornelia murmured something vile under her breath and Dimitri jerked forward, his body thrashing weakly.

This was...

His blood _burned_.

“As for you, _knight_...”

Felix's muscles snapped. He grabbed onto the sword and slashed forward, right through the _thing_ 's neck. It tore through, and the blade spun to slash at Cornelia's cheek.

The woman _screeched_ , an unholy sound that echoed painfully in the small space. She fell back, clutching at her blemished skin as her enraged gaze met Felix's.

The fake-Dimitri fell, its head rolling away to a corner.

Felix fell back, breathing sharply. Behind him, the real Dimitri was...

Was a tiny black boarlet, weakly moving its legs as it thrashed inside its clothes.

“You...” Felix growled out. “What did you....?”

“I'd be more worried about _you_ ,” she stood up, proud and vengeful. A twisted smile appeared, just as there was pounding at the entrance and the loud sound of a guard. “Beasts should be _beasts_ , after all.”

Something cold ran through Felix, a poison that seemed to settle into his very bones.

The door groaned open, and Glenn was there, a group of the closest knights behind them.

“Felix?” Glenn breathed, horrified. Behind him was Sylvain and Ingrid, their eyes as wide as saucers.

“That boy murdered the king!” Cornelia shrieked, pointing to the thing-corpse. “Our king is _dead_!”

Glenn looked at him and Felix shook his head, suddenly very lost. All he had to do was say... say _something_ but...

But his words wouldn't come.

Felix felt his throat tighten as he looked down, hastily scooping up the thrashing piglet.

_Run_ , his brother mouthed, _run **now**._

Felix slammed past them, and ran and ran as behind him, the trumpets sounded.

That night, deep in the forest leading away from the castle, his entire body throbbed in pain. He clutched tighter to the Dimitri-pig, who had gone very limp and quiet in his arms.

Felix was pulled deep into a fugue, and did not awake until morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I might or might not have watched too many Rutger Hauer movies as a child.  
> Also I cannot promise this will get done but I will make a genuine effort. I was in the mood for a rly dumb adventure story so it might be a little on the dry side - sorry!!


End file.
